I don’t know about you, but I am missing the shit out of my normal life. Like COME ON ALREADY! I feel like, for everyone, there are about 50 shades of handling the “stay at home order” depending on how strictly you are following this. In the Lieberstein household we are in a pretty severe lock down. I don’t have anyone with a compromised immune system, just a feeling that we typically have the worst kind of luck. Like I would be the one bitch in the ICU with no pre-existing condition in her mid-thirties (don’t correct me – late thirties don’t happen until your 39th year, the month before your birthday) gasping for breath because I would get the worst COVID bug possible. Even as I type this I realize I have turned into a bit of a pessimist lately. I’m disgusted with myself.
Anyway, today I would like to write a letter to the most important people in my former life that I don’t see anymore. Let’s start with the twins at the McDonalds drive through. They were the nicest girls and the last time I saw them they were arguing. I played out a whole scenario that one of the twins is an evil twin while the other is the nice one. The evil twin pretended to be the nice twin and slept with her boyfriend. Ugh the evil twin is such a bitch but man she can make a sausage mcmuffin with no butter like no one else. The english muffin toasted just right, and the sausage patty isn’t greasy at all, and she perfectly marries them together with a single slice of cheese. The nice twin wipes down the sides of my diet coke so I don’t get sticky hands and she tells me to have a wonderful day.
Next is the tall drink of water I see at Starbucks in the Target right by my office. He is so sweet. I walk up and we start chatting about our day and he makes my drinks without even asking me what my order is. He just knows me. He knows my needs, and the exact amount of pumps to add to my chia to make it just right. He hands me my drinks and offers a little wink, and sure it might not be a wink, it could be that steam just got in his eye, but I prefer to think our connection is so deep that it doesn’t need words.
Last, but oh so not least, is my favorite robust woman who makes my pizza just right every Friday. I call her on my way home from work, exhausted from doing everything for everyone else, and she is just so perky. She lets me know it’s not a problem and it will be ready for me when I pull up. Extra cheesy bread, she asks, with no hint of judgement that I am about to put myself in a carb coma when I get home, yes please Judy, do me just right. Then, when I think I couldn’t love her anymore, she notices I have a coupon on file. She take off $5 without me even asking.
You are my people, and I am so sorry I didn’t show you the appreciation you deserved, but I promise to do better. In case you are wondering, no one has taken your place. You are still the number ones in my mind. When I am making my own sad breakfast sandwich, I think about you, evil twin, and what mayheim you are causing. My pitiful attempt at my own iced tea beverage doesn’t have even a twinkle of the joy yours brings me starbucks barista, and Judy, my frozen pizza does not bring a fraction of the joy your cheese pizza gives me. Be safe my loves.
PS, yes I am in fact losing my mind a bit, as you can tell by my food-gasm I have just given myself. But I did decide to use this next month of May, now that we will be in place for another month, to do some sort of workout, eating healthy, type bullshit. Why not? I might as well use this time for good, and leave my food love affair for my dreams. Oh Judy!
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